


Nightmares & Flare-guns

by Flavortext



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Gen, Nightmares, fjord centered, theyre all just a loving family with emotional issues its fine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-08
Updated: 2019-12-08
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:56:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21719545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flavortext/pseuds/Flavortext
Summary: Fjord can't sleep.
Relationships: The Mighty Nein - Relationship
Comments: 2
Kudos: 75





	Nightmares & Flare-guns

Fjord stops sleeping in his room. The first night back in Xhorhas he spends pacing the house, stopping periodically by Yasha’s door. Waiting, listening, cursing himself and walking away, but his feet always carry him back. He winds up finally throwing himself down in a living room chair and digging his nails into the fabric and watches the stairs and upper landing close, convinced he sees shifting in the shadows. 

“Fjord?” There’s a voice from across the room, and Fjord jumps, feeling the fabric of the chair tear a bit under his fingertips. 

“Uh, hey, Caleb.” He squints through the dark. Caleb leans on his doorway, Frumpkin curling past his feet. “How long have you been there?” Fjord asks timidly. Caleb chuckles, uncrossing his arms. 

“A minute or two. What has you spooked?” Caleb pushes off the doorway, following his cat into the room. Fjord stiffens as Frumpkin redirects at a low whistle from Caleb, but allows the cat to hop up into his lap. It’s more of a reflex to sneeze now, Caleb’s been working on making Frumpkin tolerable to Fjord’s allergies. Fjord buries a hand in the nape of the cat’s neck and smiles as he immediately sets to purring and flexing his claws in Fjord’s lap. 

“Uh, nothing. Just can’t sleep.” Fjord shrugs, looking back up to see Caleb wave a hand, lighting his fingertips aflame and scanning a bookshelf by their light. “What about you?” 

“It’s morning, Fjord,” Caleb says as an answer. Fjord looks to the window. 

“Right. No sun.” Fjord groans and rubs his eyes with the hand not petting Frumpkin. 

“You should tell Caduceus if you can’t sleep. He probably has a tea or something.” Caleb says softly. Fjord nods, stifling the urge to yawn. Eventually, Caleb retreats back to his room, book in hand, but Frumpkin stays purring in Fjord’s lap. Even if he wanted to get up now, he stays planted until the girls, Yasha included, even if she’s trailing behind a little, come hurtling down the stairs with screams of requests for breakfast. Frumpkin screeches and leaves claw marks in Fjord’s pants in his effort to get away, and Fjord hops to his feet with a wince. He’ll talk to Caduceus after breakfast, he tells himself. When there’s time. 

The second night is as much of the same, and he doesn’t even get halfway to taking Caduceus’s offer of tea up before Jester gets news of their new task for Essek needing immediate attention and they’re all packing bags again. Fjord pretends his grogginess is due to the midnight hour and goes along, shaking his head at Caleb’s pointed glare before they head off into the night. 

The third night he does sleep, on cold damp earth a mile underground, beaten and bruised, and he dreams. He dreams first of an eye, watching in still waters, but it’s not Uka’toa’s, it’s Yasha’s, first green, then lavender, then flashing between them so fast he covers his face with his hands, but no matter how hard he tries to turn away and shield himself the eyes stay, burned into the backs of his eyelids. He must cry out, because Jester shakes him awake, and forces water down his throat, which feels cracked and dry. He takes the next watch and doesn’t wake Beau for her shift, sitting hunched on a rock and watching the slight shifting of their firelight at the edges of Caleb’s magic hut. 

They surface mid-day, blinking in the sudden light, lost in the wastes of Xhorhas but successful and alive. Caleb’s out of spells to really take them home, but while Caduceus and Jester sit down to try and commune a clue about their location, Fjord lays on his back, feeling the sun beat down on his face. A distant part of his mind wonders if the sunlight will keep him awake. He’s asleep before he can manage to open his mouth to ask. 

Fjord dreams he’s treading water. He keeps feeling something in the depths, slimy skin snaking around his feet, but when he kicks out or dives under he sees nothing but dark waters. He can tell he’s losing strength, that the water that should be cold is warm to his goose-bumped skin, a deadly omen. He blinks and one moment where he saw the reflection of the moon, there is a boat. Sleek black wood, two oars, nothing built for open water, but it’s something. He kicks out for it, raises a hand to try and latch on and is met with a hand in return. Someone far stronger than him hauls him up, and he lies panting on the worn wood, blinking salt out of his eyes to see his savior. 

He scrambles back when he sees Yasha, dark wings outstretched, sword in hand. She’s still reaching down to him, and her expression…gives him pause. She’s crying, but she looks happy, happier than he’s seen her in a long time. She looks a lot like she looked over their breakfast before they left the house when Jester had made a face with berries on her pancake, and Beau had switched one of the eyes with a blueberry to make it Yasha’s face, and they had all laughed. Fjord takes a steadying breath and pulls himself up onto the bench of the small boat. Yasha drops her hand, stares at him for a long moment, and sits as well. 

Fjord doesn’t remember what they talk about, but he remembers that she talks, over the crash of waves and the creak of oars as she rows them- somewhere, he doesn’t know. He wakes up to a dark sky, and his friends sat around a fire a yard off, their bags and bedrolls arranged in a protective circle around him. Fjord rolls on his side and watches as Caleb says something that makes Nott laugh, and turn to Caduceus, who hands her a small bowl. He then turns to Yasha, hands her another. She stands and takes the few strides over to where Fjord lies. He blinks and forces his aching muscles to sit upright. 

“Hey,” He says groggily. 

“You passed out,” Yasha says, helpfully handing him the bowl, thinking better of it as his hands shake, and holding the broth to his lips for him. Fjord takes a large sip before responding. 

“I uh, I’m sorry, about that,” Fjord says, carefully taking the bowl in his own hands and forcing them to be still. 

“The other’s told me about why you talk like that, now,” Yasha says softly. Fjord blinks at her, taking another sip. 

“What did they tell you?” He feels bad for being snarky, but he’s still hazy and hurting, and cautious. Yasha smiles. 

“I understand why you would not want to risk another dream.” She says. Fjord slowly nods. 

“It’s not Uka’toa, right now, at least.” He says after another mouthful. Yasha narrows her eyes, stays silent and waits for him to continue. “My mind’s just not always the most pleasant space.” He says finally. Yasha nods, understanding. 

“I have… experienced that,” Yasha says slowly. Fjord sips, eyes trained on her. “I cannot say what works for me would work for you, but…” Yasha glances back towards the group. “I think we all do something, to fight it off.” 

Fjord squints at her. “How so?” Yasha looks at him, settles down on the ground beside him and points. 

“Beau stretches, every night before bed. When we all shared a room she’d push everything out of the way and do splits, hand-stands, every muscle group, just for a few seconds. Then pass out.” Yasha says, moving her hand a little and continue. “Jester, well, you know, she talks. She tells the Traveller about her day, writes and draws in her journal. I kind of do the same, but all to myself, in my head.” 

“Who do you talk to?” Fjord asks, instantly wincing, unsure he wants to know. Yasha barely meets his eyes. 

“Molly, Zualla.” She says, moving her finger again. “Caleb casts his spells, and Nott counts things. Sometimes just her own fingers, over and over until she’s tired enough to sleep.” 

“Caduceus makes tea.” Fjord adds, starting to get the point. Yasha nods and smiles at him. 

“You just have to find something that works for you,” Yasha says gently. Fjord finishes his soup and sets the bowl down. 

“How?” He asks. Yasha sighs and shrugs. 

“Have you ever had a hobby?” She asks, grimacing at her words. “I mean, something physical, repetitive. When you cast spells you always do the same motions.” Yasha says after a moment of silence. Fjord looks at his hands. 

“Guys on the ship sometimes picked up like knitting or woodworking. I was never that good at it.” He curls his thick fingers into his palms. 

“What about wire?” Yasha asks suddenly. Fjord tilts his head. “Beau has a bunch since she bought all those jewelers supplies for crushing the gems. She was complaining about it all just sitting in her bag.” Yasha turns and reaches around into one of the packs piled up next to them, emerging with a spool of silver wire. 

“Could you make something with that?” She asks. Fjord finds the end of it silently, twisting the cord around his index finger. 

“Maybe?” He says, not sounding very hopeful. 

“Try it, and if it doesn’t work try something else.” Yasha pats him a little awkwardly on the shoulder. 

“I need you to watch my back, Fjord.” She says, even softer now. Fjord blinks. 

“I…can do that.” He says. Yasha drops her hand back to her side. 

“I do not know if I will ever be able to… trust myself, again. So, it feels good, almost, to know you’re watching.” 

Watching. It echoes in Fjord’s brain. 

“I don’t think I’ll have to watch forever.” He says, surprising himself. Yasha looks at him, brow knitted. “I think you’ll get there, I mean. I think you were worth saving.” He tries to smile, motion fumbling a bit around his teeth. Yasha’s eyes widen a bit. 

“Thank you, Fjord.” She says with an exhale. “I hope you’re right.”

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me @ transfjord on tumblr! Please leave kudos/comments! <3


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